I open the door, hugging Keeley and ushering her in. “Hey, Lu,” she says, her eyes sweeping over her friend. Lucinda folds her into a hug. “What's all this? Why did you want to meet here, Shane?”
“Well, actually,” I begin, “this meeting wasn't arranged by me. Trenton and Talia were a very important part of our lives. Without them, we wouldn’t be a couple. So as it happens, Trenton has a very important question he'd like to ask you.” I turn to Trenton, giving him a significant look and a thumbs up.
Trenton walks over to Keeley, producing the engagement ring from behind his back. Keeley's eyes widen and her mouth opens into a perfect oval. He makes a show of flipping open the top to reveal the huge diamond ring nestled inside.
“Keeley McAdams,” Trenton says, swinging his arm with a flourish, “will you marry Shane Kleinfeld?”
“Aren't you forgetting something, pal?” I prod him gently.
“Oh. Right.” He tries to lower himself to one knee—then loses his balance, falling on his butt instead. “Shit!” he yells, thumping his hand into the carpet. Keeley’s ring flies through the air and I catch it one-handed. With a sideways glance at Trenton, I drop to one knee and present it to her. When she nods, tears flooding her gorgeous eyes, I slip it on her finger.
It’s a perfect fit. And so is she.
“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life making you happy and growing together,” I say, rising and sealing my promise with a gentle kiss.
Talia does a twirl and lands right on her brother’s outstretched hand. “Damn it, Talia! You’re such an asshole!”
As everything comes full circle in the best way, Keeley and I meet gazes... and burst out laughing.
Epilogue
Keeley
Three years later…
Thousands of balloons float on the sweet summer air. Lifting. Bobbing. Fading away into the distance as they dot the azure sky with pops of vibrant color. They’re green, emblazoned with bright, red apples. Each one contains a note—a positive, uplifting missive of belief and hope—for the lucky kid who captures the string, pulls the balloon to earth, and reads it.
Just the way Pinky wanted it.
A group of us stand in Oz Park, underneath Shane’s mom’s tree, after the beautiful tribute and memorial service to one of the greatest men I ever knew.
Lucinda sniffs, whipping away a tear. “Dad would have been so happy. All these kids. All these adults. With only one thing in common… how much they loved him.”
“The service was beautiful,” I say, blinking back moisture of my own. “Especially that youth choir. Their version of ‘Over The Rainbow’ was magnificent.”
“Don’t forget ‘The Rainbow Connection,’” Shane says, gripping my hand like a lifeline. Holding his other hand, our two-year-old little boy, Jack Herschel, tugs on his dad’s jeans, demanding to be picked up.
“Ap-pah!” he says, pointing to the brilliant blue sky.
Shane nods. “Right, little man. Apple. A is for Apple, remember? And P is for?”
Jack throws his chubby baby hands high in the air. “P fo Pee-kee! Jackie wuv Papa Pee-kee.”
Shane high fives him. “You’re the smartest kid around. P is for Pinky!”
My mind drifts back to the moment I told Pinky that we’d be naming our firstborn after him. The way his eyes filled with moisture that he wicked away before it could embarrass him as he stared at my ever-growing belly. But without Pinky, Shane and I never would have met. Glancing at Diane’s tree, I suppress a shiver. Without her, we never would have met either because Jack would never have invented the Nicebomber app. With the bright blue sky high overhead, it hits me. So many things had to intertwine perfectly in order to create this amazing life the two of us now share along with our beautiful little boy.
“Thanks, Diane… thanks, Pinky,” I whisper, raising my arm high in the air, releasing the thin string and letting the final balloon drift away. “Wherever you are, I hope you’re comparing notes.”
“Jackie want ‘loon!” My son rises on tiptoe, so Shane lifts him up and shoots him into the air as high as he can go. Peals of giggles ring out as he flies back to earth and into the safety of his father’s arms. The sight causes an ache to spread across my chest. But it’s the good kind.
Shane glances at me. “All the balloons are gone, bud. How about if we go for ice cream instead?”
Jack’s eyes widen into moons. “Yum! Jackie want splinks!”
I chuckle and lean in to kiss both of them. “Ice cream isn’t ice cream without sprinkles. You are truly my son, aren’t you?”
Jack claps his hands together. “Mama! Dada! Jackie! Splinks!”
The future is big and bright, like an amazing promise coming true. Hand in hand, my family walks out of the park and toward the ice cream parlor one block over. My hand flutters to my stomach. I should tell Shane right now. Maybe later. Maybe we’ll name our daughter Diane. The thought comes with tears, stinging with the swell of emotion over how blessed I am.
Me. Keeley McAdams. Wife. Mother. Business owner. All the things I ever wanted I now cradle in the palm of my hand.
And I’m never, ever letting go.
Instead of bursting into a torrent of happy tears like I want to, I pick up my little boy in one hand and grasp my handsome husband’s hand in the other. Shane gives mine a squeeze, smiling into my eyes as I blink a few times.
“I love you, Mrs. Kleinfeld.”
The man who thought he didn’t believe in love, the man who thought he would never be a good person, has stepped into his own and become the best damn person I know.
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Copyright
Nicebomber by Colleen Charles ©2020 All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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